“No; no! A check will be quite all right,” protested Ives. “At your convenience.”
Others gathered about, curious and interested. Banneker, puzzled by a vague suspicion which he sought to formulate, was aware of a low runnel of commentary at his ear.
“Very curious. Shrewd; yes. A clever fellow.... Sad, too.”
“Sad?” He turned sharply on the lawyer of unsavory suits. “What is sad about it? A fool and his money! Is that tragedy?”
“Comedy, my friend. Always comedy. This also, perhaps. But grim.... Our friend there who is so clever of hand and eye; he is not perhaps a medical man?”
“Yes; he is. What connection—Good God!” he cried, as a flood of memory suddenly poured light upon a dark spot in some of his forgotten reading.
“Ah? You know? Yes; I have had such a case in my legal practice. Died of an—an error. He made a mistake—in a bottle, which he purchased for that purpose. But this one—he elects to live and face it—”
“Does he know it?”
“Obviously. One can see the dread in his eyes. Some of his friends know it—and his family, I am told. But he does not know this interesting little experiment of our friend. Profitable, too, eh? One wonders how he came to suspect. A medical man, though; a keen eye. Of course.”
“Damn him,” said Banneker quietly. “General paralysis?”